


To Burn New Paths

by nickel710



Series: second chances [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Korra compliant timeline of character deaths, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Ran and Shaw - Freeform, Sun Warriors - Freeform, Zuko and Druk meet cute tbh, also Bumi Kya and Tenzin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickel710/pseuds/nickel710
Summary: [Sokka takes the page and stands straight to read it.“Well, shit,” he mutters, setting the paper down and sitting in the chair closest to Zuko with a heavythump.“Yeah,” Zuko says.“What do we do?”“Find her, I guess,” Zuko answers.“Find who?” Izumi asks. The men look up to see her behind Sokka, in her light exercise clothes. Zuko actually shivers a little at the striking resemblance between Izumi and—“Azula,” he answers, his throat oddly dry. He clears it, trying to sound more confident.“Your sister?” Izumi asks, surprised. “Isn’t she still on that personal prison island?”]OrAzula has two conditions before she'll tell Zuko where the hostages are: see Ozai, and see the dragons.
Relationships: Aang & Azula (Avatar), Azula & Izumi (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Druk & Zuko (Avatar), Izumi & Sokka (Avatar), Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: second chances [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906597
Comments: 24
Kudos: 222





	To Burn New Paths

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this follows The Wildflowers That Bloom, but if you haven't read that you will encounter a few things that don't make sense, and those things will exclusively regard Izumi's mother.
> 
> Just to be clear re: not choosing to use archive warnings-- no warnings apply except Major Character Death but I didn't want to tag it as such because it happens in the fic the same way it happens according to LoK. But please do be aware that this fic covers a LONG time period and includes canonical deaths of major characters.

## Part 1

Zuko reads the morning reports in his usual manner: at the breakfast table, sipping tea and occasionally taking a distracted bite of breakfast. Izumi sits nearby, mumbling to herself as she studies furiously for a history recitation she has with her tutors later that morning. Sokka is already done with his breakfast and has disappeared to the back of the apartment to prepare himself for the day.

“Dad?” Izumi interrupts his reading.

“Hm?” he hums, reading a few more words quickly before blinking up at his daughter and trying to focus on her instead of dwelling on the half-read report.

“Is this right?” she asks, sliding her notes over to him. She points to a particular passage that she has written about Sozin and Roku, which Zuko scans for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t take the paper back. “Will you listen and see if I’ve memorized it right?”

He glances at the stack of reports still unread, then picks up her homework and smiles. “Let’s hear it,” he invites. She beams, then takes a deep breath and launches into her recitation.

He corrects a few words here or there, but Izumi has the report memorized nearly perfectly and she’s ready for the exam. He tells her as much as she takes the report back, then adds, “Don’t worry about practicing it again. Do something to calm your nerves— maybe a walk in the garden? Or practice swords for a half hour?”

She glances at her paper one more time before nodding. When she stands, she comes around the table and loops her arms around his shoulders. “Thanks, Dad,” she murmurs, then trots off to her bedroom to change from her morning robe into something suitable for exercise. 

He’s glad she still expresses affection for him like that. When he’d been her age, he’d found it impossible to trust even his uncle enough to reach out for a hug. It’s one of his biggest reliefs as a parent, that Izumi has remained open to him and the world, trusting and tender. He wonders if there had ever been a possible future for him and Azula that had looked something like this.

He snorts a humorless laugh and picks up his reports again, taking a sip of tea and missing his uncle dearly.

As he sets down the teacup and flips to the next report, his blood runs icy cold through his veins.

Sokka finds him a few minutes later, white as a sheet, staring at the same report. 

“Zuko?” he asks, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Zuko shakes his head. Sokka comes to the table and puts a hand on his husband’s back, looking at his pale face worriedly. Without a word, Zuko hands him the paper, hand trembling.

Sokka takes the page and stands straight to read it.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, setting the paper down and sitting in the chair closest to Zuko with a heavy _thump_. 

“Yeah,” Zuko says.

“What do we do?”

“Find her, I guess,” Zuko answers.

“Find who?” Izumi asks. The men look up to see her behind Sokka, in her light exercise clothes. Zuko actually shivers a little at the striking resemblance between Izumi and— 

“Azula,” he answers, his throat oddly dry. He clears it, trying to sound more confident.

“Your sister?” Izumi asks, surprised. “Isn’t she still on that personal prison island?”

Zuko glances at Sokka, who shrugs at him, a little wide-eyed. Sokka has plenty of practice at being an uncle but is still new to being a parent, and clearly feels out of his depth being consulted by his husband on the silent question of _how much should I tell my fourteen-year-old daughter about her psychopath aunt and her likely escape from the prison she has been kept at for the last eighteen years?_

To be fair, Zuko has been Izumi’s parent for all fourteen years of her life, and _he_ feels out of his depth, too. Then again, he’d been thirteen when banished from the Fire Nation, a year younger than his daughter now. Although he would never throw her to the wolf-bats like his own father had done to him, he recognizes that it was time to treat her like the young woman she was growing up to be.

He sighs and gestures for her to sit with them. She does so nervously, eyes widening as he hands her the report Sokka had just finished reading a moment ago. Zuko seldom lets her read the reports, claiming she has enough work to focus on with her studies. While she reads, Zuko makes his way to the entryway of their chambers and summons a messenger.

“Please tell Izumi’s tutors that she will not be attending classes today. We have urgent family business to attend to. Oh, and send Ila here immediately.”

* * *

They take Zuko’s personal airship, which they have used before for family excursions without guards or an entourage. It isn’t easy to slip out without a fuss, but Ila, bless her, intercepts most of the protests and deflects them so that Zuko, Sokka, and Izumi can board and prepare the ship unmolested.

Before they take off, Zuko takes a moment to double check last minute things with Ila.

“And you’re sure the delegation from Omashu will be satisfied working with the council?” he asks.

“It will have to do, Majesty,” she says with a shrug. “It isn’t ideal, but Omashu relies too heavily on Fire Nation shipping routes to take it too personally.”

He sighs. “Not how I prefer to handle international affairs.”

Ila just rolls her eyes. “Everyone, even the Fire Lord, must sometimes attend to urgent family business. People will understand.”

“I hope you’re right,” he says, then clasps her hand. “Thank you for everything you do.”

She smiles. “Good luck.”

Back on board the ship, Izumi and Sokka have finished preparing the engine for flight. Izumi stands ready on her side of the furnace, and watches for Zuko’s nod as he takes his place on the other side. 

“All clear, Sokka!” she shouts when she sees her father’s signal.

“Then let’s get airborne!” Sokka yells back from the captain’s seat. Although the ship is equipped with a power source that does not rely on firebending, it’s noisier and less efficient, so they only use it when necessary.

Once they’ve taken off and gotten everything running smoothly, Izumi and Zuko close the furnace grates and make their way to the front of the small vessel, sitting with Sokka.

“Now will you tell me why that report scared you so much?” Izumi asks, crossing her arms as she watches Caldera City get smaller and smaller beneath them. “It just said that the latest all-clear beacon from Azula’s island was missing the second security code.”

Zuko nods. “And there’s a reason there are two security codes for each all-clear signal from the island,” he says. “We have countless redundancies in place because our only hope is she doesn’t figure all of them out.”

Sokka scoffs. “I’m honestly surprised it worked enough to give us this much of a warning,” he says with a grimace. 

Izumi looks back between her step-father and father, eyebrows high. “I know you’ve told me Aunt Azula was dangerous, but… you don’t think this is a little paranoid?”

Zuko remembers the first time Azula tried to kill him, when they were just children. He thinks of the way, at fourteen, she infiltrated Ba Sing Se with only Mai and Ty Lee as allies, and brought the whole city down from the inside. He glances at Sokka and knows he’s thinking of how she played mind games on him, Toph, and Aang on the Day of Black Sun until the eclipse had passed and taken their chance to kill Ozai with it.

“Izumi,” he says, considering all the things he’s told her about Azula and all the things he hasn’t, wondering if he’s made a mistake bringing her along when he has also underprepared her for the reality of who her aunt is, “what do you think Azula is like?” His daughter frowns at him and he raises a hand to show he’s being sincere. “This isn’t a trick. Just… answer the question. What is Azula like?”

Izumi thinks for a minute, then her voice takes on the same reciting-from-memory cadence that she had used when practicing her report that morning. “Although Azula was younger than you by two years, your father preferred her as his heir for the Fire Throne. She was groomed by Ozai to be a cunning leader who believed in the old Fire Nation credo that ‘might makes right.’ She conquered Ba Sing Se through infiltration after—”

“Wait, Izumi,” Zuko interrupts. “That’s all accurate and fine, but I want you to tell me what you think her personality is like.”

“Oh,” Izumi says, faltering. She takes another moment to think, then says, “Um. I guess, kind of… like you but scarier? More… ambitious? Angrier?”

Sokka actually laughs a little. “Surprise you though it may, your dad was always the angrier of the two of them,” he tells her. “Not anymore, but man. When we were kids? You should have seen him! Always erupting and shouting at everything.”

“That’s not—!” Zuko breaks off, closing his eyes in a wince at the sudden, childlike shout of his protest. “Okay, maybe that’s true. But insofar as Azula wasn’t angrier than me, it was because Azula was….” He gropes for the word.

“Cold,” Sokka supplies, quieter.

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, slumping back in his seat. Izumi is rapt. Zuko brings a flame up in his hand and lets it dance around his fingertips. “I coped with our terrible childhood by lashing out everywhere, at Uncle, at Aang, at myself. My buried feelings spilled out in violent, confused, angry ways.” He lets the flame die. “Azula didn’t cope— she thrived. Whatever feelings she had didn't get buried, they got chipped away until she was nothing but dangerously sharp edges around icy cold emptiness.”

Sokka puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes. He knows how much anxious energy Zuko pours into thinking about Azula.

“Azula laughed when my father burned me,” Zuko says, and Izumi’s eyes widen. They _never_ talk about the Agni Kai. “Uncle looked away but I remember Azula’s taunting laughter. She knew my banishment meant her own promotion to heiress. But when I kept turning up again and again, she became obsessed with killing me. She would trick me, or use me, but always the goal was to set me up to die at Father’s hand or her own.”

“That’s awful!” Izumi interjects. “She was your sister!”

Zuko looks up at her in surprise, then smiles gently. “You have to understand, Izumi. Azula and I grew up in a very different family than you. Father… he became completely twisted by ambition and power. He was cruel, and heartless, and Azula learned that from him at an age so young I don’t think she knows how to be anything else.”

“Why aren’t you that way then?” Izumi challenges.

Zuko is quiet for a long moment, thinking back to a time when he was little, a time so long ago it’s more hazy, half-recalled stories than actual memories. His father’s hand on his back. His mother showing him Azula’s kicking feet in her pregnant belly. The four of them at the beach house, Azula chasing Zuko through the fields, tripping on her own feet because she barely knew how to walk.

“Two years is a lot of time, for children,” Zuko finally answers. “Ozai… he wasn’t always quite so… terrible. He didn’t always hate me. And your Grandmother Ursa protected me a great deal from the worst of it when things started to change, but Azula was….” he trails off, unsure.

“Azula was Azula,” Sokka supplies, shaking his head. 

“Yeah.”

They lapse into silence, Izumi looking sad and troubled as she stares out at the ocean passing underneath. Occasionally Sokka radios other airships or outposts, using royal codes to signal belonging so they aren’t boarded and challenged by United Forces patrols or Fire Nation soldiers. When the engine needs more heat, Izumi or Zuko gets up and supplies it with a fresh round of firebending power. 

After a few more hours of this, a few trivial conversations have started and stopped, and finally Zuko leans over his daughter’s shoulder and points out the window. Izumi follows his finger and sees the landmass on the horizon. “Alright!” she whoops. “Land ho, Captain Sokka!”

“Aye-aye, First Mate,” Sokka answers with a grin and a silly accent that Zuko thinks is supposed to sound like a pirate. 

“Hey,” Zuko says, spreading his arms. “What about me?”

“What about you?” Sokka asks, raising an eyebrow. Izumi giggles.

“She can’t be first mate!” Zuko protests, pointing at his daughter. “Shouldn’t that honor go to me? You know, the Fire Lord? Your husband?”

“Quit yer grouchin’ and swab the poop deck, uh, me hearty?” Sokka finishes with a cringe, losing the pirate thread at the end.

Zuko rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you went with ‘me hearty,’ _Captain_ ,” he scolds, leaning down over Sokka, who puckers up for a kiss. Izumi closes her eyes and groans, but Zuko ignores his husband and grabs the radio. Sokka pouts.

“Come in, Elephant-Koi Seven,” he pages, using his personalized code for the guard tower. The guards know that an Elephant-Koi Seven page from an incoming vessel means Zuko himself is approaching Azula’s island. “Elephant-Koi Seven, do you copy.”

“Zuzu, is that you?” Azula’s voice returns over the radio, and Zuko’s blood runs cold. He sees Sokka’s face go pale, too, and grips his husband’s shoulder. Izumi watches the interaction with wide eyes.

“Azula, what are you doing?” he demands. “Where are the guards?”

“I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking. Here,” she says, “since I know you don’t believe me, hear for yourself.” 

There’s some muffled sounds and then an urgent but unmistakably masculine voice says, “Your Majesty! We were ambushed, she—”

He cuts off with a groan and they hear Azula say, “Oh, just confirm for him I haven’t killed anyone.”

After a pause and another _thump_ followed by another groan, the man says, “Everyone was alive last I saw, my lord.”

Another scuffling. Zuko imagines that Azula is moving to sit back at a desk where the radio receiver won’t be stretched far from its base.

“What do you want, Azula?” he asks.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if I told you,” she replies, clucking her tongue. “Besides, my plan is already working just fine, no need to spoil it by telling it to you. Spider-Snake Two, this is Elephant-Koi Seven,” she continues in a mock official voice. Spider-Snake Two isn’t anything; she’s just being obnoxious now. “You are cleared for landing at the west dock. Over and out.”

“Azula!” Zuko yells. “Azula!” But she’s gone.

Sokka brings the airship to a hovering standstill, giving Zuko a worried look. “What now?” he asks. 

“We can’t leave the guards to her mercy,” Zuko says.

“We can go back for help,” Sokka counters.

Zuko shakes his head. “Let’s just go. I can handle Azula, and we can get this taken care of before it’s an international incident.”

“Are you sure?” Sokka asks. “It’s got to be a trap.”

Zuko looks at Izumi, whose face shows she is worried and maybe a little excited. She nods. He nods back. “Let’s go.”

They fly the ship to a gentle landing at the dock, and as they get ready to disembark, Zuko gently takes Izumi’s arm. “Don’t listen to anything Azula says. Lying is like breathing for her, okay?”

“Okay,” Izumi agrees.

Zuko looks up to Sokka. “Wait here for now. She doesn’t know you’re here, and we can send you a distress call if something goes wrong. You can get off the ground without us if needed and go get help.”

“What? No!” Sokka protests. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“Just for now,” Zuko pleads, putting his hand on Sokka’s crossed arms. “Let me and Izumi see what she wants, and you’re the ace in our sleeve if she tries to pull something.”

He scowls but nods. “Fine.” He pulls Zuko forward and kisses him, then runs a hand down Izumi’s hair, bracing on her shoulder for a moment and nodding. “Take care of each other. Be cautious. Call me _before_ you need me.”

Father and daughter nod, then Zuko steps out onto the dock, hands held loosely in front of him as though ready for an attack at any moment. Izumi stays close, alert and serious.

“Azula,” Zuko calls, squinting his eyes against the sun as he looks around.

“I don’t see her,” Izumi whispers.

“She might still be at the radio tower,” he answers doubtfully, still scanning every direction. 

They make it a good distance up the shore before Zuko gets that old chill down his spine that he recognizes as his finely honed instinct for spotting his little sister. He sees the slightest movement in some bushes, then remembers his own ambush years ago with Katara against Yon Rha, the retired Southern Raider. _“We weren’t in the bush,”_ he’d said back then.

He turns and steps around Izumi just in time to see Azula emerge from the other side of the path, sending a signature blue flame shooting from her foot. He blocks and dispels the heat easily, and another blow doesn’t come. Still, he does not drop from his defensive stance, anger seething just beneath his skin as he tries not to think about how Azula’s attack could have hurt Izumi if he’d been a second slower.

“Oh, lighten up, Zuzu,” Azula laughs. “I wasn’t really trying to hurt you. It was just for old time’s sake.”

“Forgive me if I’m not quick to trust,” he grits out through his clenched teeth.

Azula rolls her eyes, then looks over his shoulder to where Izumi is peeking at her, eyes wide with fear and curiosity. “Who’s the brat?” she asks.

Zuko relaxes his stance a fraction and says, “This is my daughter, Izumi.”

“Your daughter,” repeats Azula, and he’s surprised at her surprise. He’s told her about Izumi before, and he’s sure Ursa has, too, when she has visited Azula on occasion.

“Hi?” Izumi ventures.

“I thought you were making her up,” Azula says, scowling at Izumi.

Zuko blinks at his sister, confused. “Why… what reason would I possibly have for making up having a daughter?” 

Azula shrugs, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. She doesn’t do much with it these days, just lets it hang loose and wavy, full of seasalt. “I don’t know, to try to garner my sympathy?” She pauses, then glares at Izumi. “Wait. You are actually his kid, right? Not just some peasant he’s dressed up and told to pretend?”

“Uh, yes? Actual, biological child of Zuko, that’s me,” Izumi confirms. Azula takes a step forward and Zuko’s hands come up defensively again. 

Azula clasps her hands behind her back to indicate she means no harm, though Zuko knows perfectly well that she can spit fire if she wants. Still, he lets her approach a little closer, ready to defend Izumi if Azula attacks. But she doesn’t. She just leans in a bit and stares at her niece, eyes narrowed and critical.

“Hm,” she says. “No, I can see it. The family resemblance is strong. Well, who knew you had it in you to get someone to have offspring with you.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Why are you acting like this is a surprise? You know perfectly well that I was married to Izumi’s mother for twelve years,” he chides. 

“Then she left you like Mother left us?” Azula says, nodding.

“No,” Izumi says quietly. “Then she died.”

“Hmph,” Azula scoffs, looking between Zuko and Izumi. “Well, this has been edifying—”

“Stop acting like I didn’t tell you all of this before,” Zuko interrupts indignantly, annoyed that Azula is making it seem like Zuko had been hiding these things when in fact he had shared about his life with her quite openly during his visits.

Azula continues as though he has not spoken. “—but it’s not pertinent to what’s happening right now.”

“Which is?” Zuko prompts, scowling at his sister.

“I happen to be the only one who knows the coordinates of a ship that I have launched somewhere into the ocean,” she begins, and her voice and face take on the affect of the Azula of their youth, cruel, haughty, sure of her own victory, “which happens to be full of kidnapped guards and workers. So if you want to save them before their water rations run out in two days’ time, then I suggest you do as I say.”

So that was her play. Zuko didn’t keep as close an eye as he once had on the comings and goings of ships to Azula’s island, which was quite distant from any other land mass. He could certainly radio in a request for the navy to begin search and rescue, but with the amount of open ocean there is to cover, odds are against them that they can find the ship without Azula’s help.

“What do you want in exchange for the information?” he asks.

“I want to see Father,” Azula says right away, “and I want to see the dragons.”

Zuko is surprised by both of these demands. “What dragons?” he asks belatedly. He can practically feel Izumi’s eye roll from behind him. He’s never been great at lying.

“Oh come on, Zuzu, you’ve got ‘stupid’ covered without acting ignorant of what we both know you know,” Azula taunts. “Take me to see Father, and take me to see the dragons.”

“Why?” Zuko asks, jaw and fists clenched.

“Because a ship with twenty people on it is adrift somewhere in the ocean,” Azula says, eyes going wide and innocent as she gestures expansively at the water. “And if you’d like them to survive this ordeal, then my demands are simple. Father. Dragons.”

“And then?”

She sighs. “And then I’ll give you the coordinates as I set them before launching the ship,” she says, bored. “Are we agreed?”

Zuko glances at Izumi. “And in the meantime, you promise not to hurt me, Izumi, or anyone else?”

“Unless someone attacks me first,” she says magnanimously, “then I promise I will not harm anyone.”

“Dad,” Izumi says quietly. He steps to the side a little so he can look at her without losing track of Azula. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Zuko admits. “But I’m inclined to try.” He smiles a little and puts his hand on Izumi’s shoulder bracingly. “Would you like to meet some dragons?”

* * *

Zuko sends Izumi ahead to warn Sokka of their return so that his husband does not ambush them or attack Azula as they approach the ship. When they do reach the stairs up to the ship’s interior, Sokka is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, scowl on his face, Izumi peering out at her father and aunt from behind him.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, voice cold. “What’s this about?”

“Didn’t Izushi tell you?” Azula says. “Hi, Sucko. Can’t say I expected to see you here.”

Zuko sighs. “As with everything else you’ve been surprised by today, I _did_ tell you I remarried,” he says. 

“And, just like everything else, I didn’t believe you,” Azula replies as though this is incredibly obvious.

“You’re the liar in the family, Azula,” Zuko says, moving around her so he can approach Sokka. “I’ve never lied to you.” She doesn’t respond, and his skin crawls to leave his back exposed, but he knows from the way Izumi tenses that she’s ready to cover him if Azula shoots fire at him now.

“Sokka,” he murmurs, reaching out and laying a hand on his husband’s arm. “Did Izumi explain?”

Sokka seems to wrench his gaze away from Azula with great difficulty, meeting Zuko’s eyes. “Yeah,” he says, clearly angry. “What I don’t get is why you believe her. She _always_ lies.”

 _Azula always lies,_ his ten-year-old self echoes back. He shudders.

“The one thing she doesn’t lie about is when she has leverage from some insane scheme,” Zuko points out, and Sokka actually looks stricken by the validity of this argument. “If we say no, we could lose twenty innocent people who were just trying to be good citizens of the Fire Nation. If we say yes, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Sokka brightens at this question. “Azula could be judged as unworthy by the dragons and incinerated?” he asks hopefully.

Zuko laughs a little. “Maybe we should get the coordinates before she climbs the stairs,” he agrees. “It’s not that bad. A trip to Ozai, and then to the Sun Warriors. We’ll need two or three days, tops.”

Reluctantly, Sokka nods. They both look to Izumi, who is staring at Azula, but does a double take when she realizes they’re waiting for her to weigh in. “What, really?” she asks. “You want my opinion?”

“Yes,” Zuko says.

She looks nervous at this, but eventually nods. “We’ll have to keep an eye on her overnight,” she points out. “To make sure she doesn’t escape at any point. But I don’t want to lose the lives of twenty of our citizens and guard; even if it _is_ a ruse, we can’t risk it.”

Zuko nods and turns back to Azula, who is tapping her foot and picking at a fingernail with a frown. “Let’s go,” he says, and she smiles that wicked, cat-hawk with the canary-sparrow smile that even eighteen years later still makes Zuko break into a sweat.

* * *

Once they’re within radio range of the first major Fire Nation army outpost, Zuko radios to shore and tells the soldiers his destination. He also orders an initial search and rescue fleet be sent out to begin patrolling the area where Azula claims to have sent the marooned ship full of hostages. She doesn’t interrupt, just waits with a smirk while he finishes communicating to the outpost all of the messages he needs sent back to the palace posthaste.

“You could at least help with the fuel,” Sokka grouches at Azula as Izumi single handedly heats the engine while her father deals with the radio. 

“Sure,” Azula says breezily, reaching a hand over to the furnace and shooting it full of blue flame. The fire pours out of the other side where Izumi is standing, too much for the confined space of the engine block, and she yelps and throws her arms up into an X shape to block the fire. “Oops,” Azula drawls, entirely unrepentant. “Sorry.”

Sokka makes sure Izumi is okay before taking the radio receiver from Zuko’s shaking hand. 

Zuko grabs his sister by the front of her shirt and hauls her up to his eye level. “That’s the second time you threw flames at my daughter,” he grinds out, that deep, long-dormant anger burning in his chest now. “If it happens again, you’ll become the second former Fire Lord to lose her firebending.” 

Azula opens her mouth to retort, but something about the expression on Zuko’s face apparently deters her and instead she just pushes her brother off and steps back from him, straightening her clothing.

Although he can tell Izumi is staring at him, Zuko does not meet her eyes.

A few hours later they land outside the prison where Ozai is kept. Zuko has been to see his father a few times over the last eighteen years, always when circumstances offered no other way to get information he needed. He can feel his shoulders climbing and his body stiffening with tension as soon as the prison is within sight.

They make the walk up the stairs into the prison tower silently. Everyone is now wearing red and gold cloaks that obscure their features and clothing, so that not everyone who sees them will know they visited. Zuko knows the information will still get out, but at least he can protect Izumi a little by making sure any passing inmates do not get a good look at her.

When they approach the first checkpoint that prevents anyone from getting access to Ozai, Zuko pulls his hood down and nods to the guards. They immediately drop into prostrate bows, something that the staff, soldiers, and regular visitors to the palace have long since stopped doing. Still, this is one of the strongholds of old tradition, and Zuko has never quite managed to convince these guards that it isn’t necessary. Even as new blood replaces retiring old guards, tradition and fear keep a tight grip in a place like this.

“Please stand,” Zuko invites. “We’re here to see my father.”

“Of course, my lord,” one of the guards answers, keeping his eyes downcast as he climbs to his feet. “Krina, prepare the west gate.”

The other guard, a younger woman, springs to her feet and can’t help but shoot a curious look at the Fire Lord’s party as she hurries over to the other side of the gate. The first guard calls for someone through the bars, who appears, takes one look at Zuko, and drops into a bow.

Zuko can’t help the sigh. “Stand,” he commands, feeling less patient. Behind him, Azula snickers.

The third guard gets to her feet and the three of them coordinate the checkpoint security measures, then the gate grinds open with a horrible metal-on-metal screeching. Sokka puts his hand between Zuko’s shoulder blades. “Relax a little,” he whispers. “Let’s not give him the satisfaction, hm?”

Zuko looks up into those blue eyes, so kind and always looking for the silver linings (silver cloud sandwiches, he remembers suddenly), and lets out a breath he has been holding. He nods to Sokka, then turns a bit so he can run his hand down his husband’s arm until it nestles into his palm. He holds on. Izumi steps up to Zuko’s other side and loops her arm into his, smiling at him through her own nervousness.

Azula scoffs. Strangely, it doesn’t bother Zuko much.

With husband on one side and daughter on the other, Zuko looks to Krina. “Will you please go ahead and tell the next checkpoint we’re coming? I’d like everyone to stay on their feet. No kneeling.”

“Sir—” the other guard, the first to have spoken earlier, interjects. Zuko shoots him a look, raising an eyebrow, and the man quickly drops his gaze to the ground and falls silent.

“No kneeling,” Zuko says firmly. “Thank you, Krina.”

“My lord,” she says with a deep bow from her waist, then she begins to trot ahead as Zuko and his family continue forward at a normal pace. Sokka squeezes Zuko’s hand and then falls back to keep an eye on Azula.

At the next checkpoint, Krina is there and the group of guards here bow briefly from their waists, but do not wait for him to tell them to stand before straightening and beginning the work of opening the gate. Zuko smiles at Krina, whose eyes go wide before quickly cutting away.

They go up another flight of stairs, and up here there is only one door, staffed by two bored looking guards. Their boredom quickly turns to astonishment as Zuko and Izumi appear, and, since Krina had not gone ahead this time, they drop to their knees ( _sigh_ ).

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the older one says. “Fire Princess Izumi, welcome.”

“Stand, please. We’re going to speak to Ozai.”

“Of course, sir,” the guard says, as he and his comrade get to their feet. They each insert a key into a lock, then nod to each other and turn the keys in tandem. The door clicks open. Zuko steps forward and pulls the heavy iron door outward. 

He looks to Sokka, who has taken the rear of the group, then enters first. Izumi follows him, then Azula, and finally Sokka enters and closes the door. In front of them is a room with mediocre furnishings behind iron bars. Ozai sits on a small bed, his bare feet on a rug.

Zuko shivers as his father raises his head and his dull eyes meet Zuko’s own. Ozai then takes in the girl holding onto Zuko’s arm, and he narrows his eyes and stands, shuffling to the bars. 

“Father,” Azula says, and Ozai’s eyes widen a bit as he looks behind Izumi to his own daughter, then takes in Sokka’s presence. His face does not register recognition.

“Azula,” Ozai says, and his voice sounds hoarse and like he’s out of practice talking. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Azula says in a voice that breaks Zuko’s heart for its desperate need to be seen and approved of. Suddenly her ploy to see Ozai seems less sinister and more pathetic, the misguided childish impulse that Azula has never shaken to prove to her father that she is perfectly loyal and therefore worthy of his love. “I held twenty civilians hostage so Zuko would—”

“And what did you hope to accomplish?” Ozai interrupts, snorting a cruel laugh at his daughter. “You failed me twenty years ago, Azula. If you had held your own against Zuko, perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation. The time has long since passed to prove yourself.” 

Zuko doesn’t really know why he jumps in to defend his sister, but he does. “It wasn’t her fault you lost to the avatar,” he snaps, heart racing as he steps forward to stand even with Azula.

“I don’t need your help,” Azula spits, but Ozai just laughs over her words and turns his attention to Zuko. 

“And you,” he snarls. Azula crosses her arms and looks away, pouting that Ozai has already dismissed her. “What new tragedy do you have to report about how my nation is crumbling under your rule?”

Zuko shrugs. “The Fire Nation is doing fine,” he says evenly, though under his father’s undivided attention he can feel the adrenaline pouring into his system. “As is the Earth Kingdom, and the Water Tribes. Even the Air Nomad culture is being revitalized under Aang’s attention and care.”

Ozai shakes his head as though this is awful news, then settles his glare on Izumi. “So, this is the princess, then. My granddaughter. Tell me, child, are you disappointing like your father, or like your aunt?”

“Father,” Azula interrupts desperately, “I can—”

“Enough, Azula!” Ozai snaps without even looking at her, and like she did as a teenager, Azula bites back any further protests. “I am talking to my granddaughter now.”

“Izumi,” Izumi introduces herself, standing straight as she looks at her grandfather with a surprisingly smooth face. Zuko is used to being able to read every emotion on his daughter’s face, but he’s impressed by the way she holds herself poised and blank. It reminds him of Raya. “I cannot answer your question because neither my father nor my aunt has disappointed me.”

“Give it time,” Ozai says with a cruel smile. “They will. It’s in their nature.”

“I suppose we inherited it from you,” Zuko counters without really thinking. Everyone stares at him and he shrugs, trying desperately not to let his internal panic at sassing his father show on his face. He’s almost forty years old. He _can’t_ still live in fear of this pathetic excuse for a man. “I mean, taunting your own children about their nature? C’mon. Seems like a pretty straightforward self-burn.”

Sokka snorts a little laugh. Ozai’s attention swivels to him. “And this… man?” he asks, having clearly forgotten Sokka. “What is he doing here for this little family reunion?”

“Well, he _is_ part of the family,” Azula sneers, seeing her chance to fully shift her father’s displeasure onto Zuko. And that’s the thing, isn’t it, Zuko realizes. All his life, she has wanted him around just a little more than she has wanted him gone, because she can always find a way to slide Ozai’s negative attention onto Zuko and deflect it from herself. 

“What? Azula, did you marry a _Water_ rat?” Ozai spits.

“Hardly,” Azula laughs. “It’s your son you should interrogate about such a marriage.”

Ozai goes very still, vibrating with the promise of violence. Zuko goes very still, trembling with the need to get away balanced with the imperative to protect Izumi at all costs. 

Sokka’s deriding laugh cuts the tension. “Of course, you’re also a bigot,” he says, stepping forward and looping an arm around Zuko’s shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint— oh wait, I’m not sorry, nevermind.” He presses a kiss to Zuko’s cheek. “I’m sorry that you’re so miserable that your own son’s happiness means nothing to you.”

“You’re a Fire Lord,” Ozai spits at Zuko, knuckles white on the bars that he is gripping now as though he is trying to rip them apart so he can get to his son and show him exactly what he thinks of his choice in partner. “How dare you disgrace the position—”

“You do not have to approve,” Zuko says, his heart beating fast as his body reacts to his father’s rage the way it always had: fear. So much fear. But he channels Izumi’s calm in the face of Ozai, and grounds himself in Sokka’s touch on his shoulder. “You do not have to do anything. It’s your rotten life, in your rotten jail cell. If you want to poison yourself with hate, fine. But I am done here.”

Izumi nods and leaves the room first. Azula tries to say something to Ozai but he begins to shout at her, yelling obscenities and abuse, and even she crumbles under the barrage and flees. Sokka takes Zuko’s hand, and they move to leave together.

“Are you happy, reducing me to this?” Ozai hisses. Zuko glances back at his father, who is holding onto the bars, posture stooped as he catches his breath from screaming at Azula.

Zuko looks back at Sokka and remembers a long time ago, when he had gotten Sokka to confess his intention to go to the Boiling Rock and break Hakoda free. “Are you happy?” Sokka had asked. “I’m never happy,” Zuko had answered.

“I am happy,” Zuko says, smiling shakily first at Sokka, then he turns to look at his father. “But not because of this. You… you don’t really matter one way or the other to my happiness, to be honest.”

And he turns around and ignores his father yelling for him to come back and talk to him like a man.

The guards outside pretend not to have heard anything with pale faces, their hands not as steady this time as they lock the heavy outer door again. Azula is pacing the hallway, but Izumi throws herself into Zuko’s arms as soon as the door is closed. She shudders and lets out a little sob.

“He’s so horrible,” she cries into Zuko’s robe. He holds her close and knows that he is shaking, too. Sokka keeps his arm around Zuko’s shoulder, his other hand on Izumi’s back to brace her. “I— I knew he was awful from your stories, but everything he said was— it was cruel, he was so cruel—”

Izumi cuts off abruptly as she realizes that the shaking she is feeling isn’t just coming from herself. She backs up from Zuko with wide eyes, takes in his ashen coloring and the way he forces a pained smile to reassure her that he’s okay even as his breath comes in too shallow, uneven. She looks to Sokka, then to Azula, then back to her father, before her face hardens with purposeful anger. 

She grabs Zuko by the hand and begins marching toward the checkpoint. Zuko, a bit bewildered but still working hard to calm his trauma reaction at having Ozai yell at him, lets her. The gates are open, Sokka following with Azula in tow, and the gates _keep_ opening without Zuko saying a word as Izumi gestures and commands. 

Then they’re outside and they’re beyond the prison grounds and back at the airship, and Izumi throws herself around Zuko, hugging him fiercely.

Later, he will think about this moment and sadly realize that for the first time ever, Izumi was protecting _him_. She sees him in this moment not as a child sees her parent— infallible, always sure, never scared— but as a woman looking at her adult parent and knowing that he carries his own flaws, his own baggage, his own fears and pains.

Now, however, he is too shaken by Ozai to think about all of this. He hugs her back, glad she is here. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs to her. “I should have prepared you better for your grandfather.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Izumi says. “I wish he’d been nicer.”

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs, and then he’s being swept up by Sokka as he and Azula finally catch up to them on the airship. Izumi lets Sokka take over, instead switching her attention to piloting the airship while Azula powers the engine for takeoff. 

Sokka presses a kiss to Zuko’s temple, his cheek. “Are you okay?” he asks, smoothing his husband’s hair back from his face.

“I’m fine,” Zuko protests, letting Sokka worry over him for a bit because it’s comforting to feel his touch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” Sokka says immediately. “Please. I can’t handle it. I’ll go back in there and kill him myself if you start apologizing for how he treated you.”

Zuko considers this a bit, then shrugs. “Okay,” he agrees. “I guess you’re right. Sometimes, it’s been so long since I’ve seen him that I actually forget what a miserable thing it is to be in his presence. Every time I have to see him, I think, it can’t be as bad as last time.” He shakes his head with a derisive laugh. “Doesn’t seem to matter how much healing I’ve done outside of his presence. When I’m around him, it’s like I’m thirteen and begging him for mercy again before he wipes half of my face off.”

Sokka wraps him in a hug. “It matters,” he says. “It matters because you’ve raised Izumi to never fear your raised hand or voice. It matters because you’ve learned to accept love.”

With a sigh into his husband’s shoulder, Zuko lets the words wash over him. The adrenaline has left his system and he is suddenly very, very tired. “I’m going to sit here for a minute,” he says, unable to come up with anything more to say about it. “I just want to rest.”

Sokka nods, then scowls in the direction of the prison before leaning back in and kissing Zuko, the short, familiar kisses of someone just reassuring himself that his lover is in one piece. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Zuko protests, shoving Sokka lightly toward the front of the ship. “Go help Izumi pilot this thing, hm?” Sokka kisses him one more time before doing as told. Zuko takes the closest seat. 

After a few minutes, he hears footsteps and looks up. Azula. He sighs.

“So,” she says airily, in a voice that is trying too hard to be casual, “Father is just as fun as I remember him.”

“Why do you still call him ‘Father?’” Zuko asks scornfully. Azula sits down next to him, looking up to the front of the ship where Sokka is gesturing grandly while talking to Izumi, who rolls her eyes at him but also laughs a bit at whatever he’s telling her. 

“He _is_ our father,” she says after a moment. “Nothing can change that.”

“Uncle Iroh was more of a father to me than Ozai ever was,” Zuko retorts, unwilling to give Ozai even that inch of claim over him.

“Yes,” Azula agrees. “Must have been nice.”

Zuko opens his mouth to say something angry in defense of Uncle, but even a quick glance at Azula stops this. She looks… sincere. He hadn’t expected that. 

“Mother always preferred you,” Azula says, and some of the pretense is gone from her voice. He remembers the few days they had together on Ember Island before the eclipse, all those years ago, when she had similarly seemed closer to sincere than any other time he could remember. “Uncle preferred you. And… Father preferred me,” she finishes the list of important adults from their childhood and sits back in her chair with a soft _whump_.

“Mother and Uncle both loved you, Azula,” Zuko says. “But you made it impossible for them to save you.”

“I was fourteen,” Azula says. “Was it my responsibility?”

Zuko is stunned, but Azula immediately ruins the moment by laughing at his surprised expression and saying, “Just kidding, we both know I was hopeless. You and Mother and Uncle were all right to give up on me. I wouldn’t have done anything differently.”

She stands up before he can say anything and walks away, opening the furnace and blasting some fire into it to power the ship for a while.

Zuko stares at her, and wonders.

* * *

They land the ship and make camp an hour’s walk away from the edge of the Sun Warrior ruins. Upon becoming Fire Lord, Zuko had ordered the ruins a protected heritage site but denied every scholar’s pitch for an archaeological expedition. After a while, people forgot about the ruins again, and Zuko was confident that, at least for now, the surviving Sun Warriors and dragons were safe from discovery and exploitation.

Zuko takes Izumi into the wilderness to forage for food, leaving Azula and Sokka alone by the campfire they’ve built. Although he doesn’t trust Azula, Zuko is reasonably certain that she won’t attack Sokka and run off on her own right now, with the Sun Warriors so close. She’s very interested in the dragons, and she needs Zuko to help her find them. For now, she has more to gain by sticking close than running off.

“Dad,” Izumi says as she digs up some wild onions and adds them to the pile of food they’ve scavenged, “will you tell me the full story of your family now? About how Great-Grandfather Azulon died, and why Grandmother Ursa left you, and how you were banished from Grandfather’s court?”

Zuko pulls up some tubers and assesses their viability as food. He suspects that the rich wild offerings of the area may be due to old fields that once fed villages nearby, all of which are long gone. But the vestiges of those people’s agriculture, combined with the scarcity of visitors to this area, provides a plentiful dinner for Zuko and his family.

He drops the tubers into the basket he’s filling and says, “I can do that. It’s a lot of long stories, so I’ll tell you a few each week until you’ve learned all you want. How does that sound?”

She hesitates. “You won’t leave things out to protect me, or whatever?”

“I won’t,” he promises.

Izumi nods. “Then it’s a deal. Will you start with how Uncle Iroh lost the throne to Grandfather Ozai?”

Zuko remembers kneeling in the throne room before his grandfather’s aged form, watching Azula flawlessly firebend her way through a new form that he had only just begun working on with his master days before. He remembers wondering how she, two years his junior, was advancing so much faster than him. Why he, two years her senior, was always playing catch-up to her.

“Uncle Iroh had a son, Lu Ten,” Zuko begins. They continue harvesting enough food for all four to eat their fill, and he tells the story about Ozai’s ambition.

“... The next day, Azulon was dead and the Arch Fire Sage declared that it had been his dying wish that Ozai succeed him instead of Iroh,” Zuko concludes, as they walk back to the camp.

“But you said Azulon denied Ozai’s request,” Izumi says with a frown.

“Very observant,” he compliments her, giving her a smile. “You’re right, there’s more to it than that. That story will have to wait, though— I’m not hiding anything, I promise. It’s just a lot to tell, and we need to make sure Azula and Sokka haven’t strangled each other yet.”

Izumi opens her mouth to protest, but thinks better of it and just nods instead.

* * *

In the morning, none of them feel especially refreshed. Camping isn’t the norm for any of them these days, and on top of that Zuko, Izumi, and Sokka woke up all night to the softest of noises, sure it was Azula trying to pull something. But Azula hadn’t tried anything, and now Zuko starts to fret that she’s luring them into a false sense of security.

They eat the rest of last night’s stew to break fast, then pack up camp and store everything on the ship before starting the trek to the Sun Warrior temple. Zuko leads, watching for the booby traps he knows will be maintained around the perimeter, before bringing them up short in the large plaza behind the main temple where he and Aang had long ago accidentally triggered the slime trap.

“Hello!” he shouts. “Zuko here!”

Sokka snickers. Zuko snickers. Izumi and Azula roll their eyes. 

“Now what?” Azula demands, taking in the sights with an unimpressed look.

“Now we wait. Aang and I were trapped for a while, and last time I came back I just waited here for a few hours until someone showed.” Zuko pauses, then cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hello!” again.

Sokka sighs, then joins in the shouting to signal they’ve arrived. After a while, they quiet down and wait. Izumi practices the Dancing Dragons form that Zuko taught her years ago. Once she has gone through it a few times, Azula tries it, too. Izumi immediately stops what she’s doing and looks to Zuko, who shrugs and nods, encouraging her to do the form opposite her aunt.

After a few more tries, they get the pacing down and finish the circular form with their fists touching at just the right moment.

“Not bad,” Azula remarks. “How about Petals of Flame?”

“Azula,” Zuko says in a warning tone, but Izumi brightens and comes to resting attention. She bows in Zuko’s direction, hesitates, then gives a little bow in Azula’s direction, too. She centers her breath, and starts the form Azula has named. It’s an advanced form, one Zuko struggled to learn with Iroh after his banishment. Izumi, like Azula, has mastered it younger than he had managed.

Azula watches Izumi’s careful, precise motions with a critical eye. When her niece has finished the form, she gives an appreciative, slow clap. “Just like your father,” she says in overly dulcet tones, and Izumi’s beaming smile slips a little. She can’t tell whether she is being mocked or complimented, given Azula’s general and well-known disdain for Zuko’s firebending skills. “So… controlled.”

Azula bows to no one before beginning the form herself. Her fire is blue hot again, and she moves with the kind of grace and fluidity that comes from feeling entirely as one with the element one bends. Aang looks this way when bending air. Katara, when bending water. Toph, earth.

Zuko picks up in the middle of the form, and he loses himself to the flames and the athleticism. If Azula thinks she still monopolizes this kind of connection with fire in their family, she’s in for a surprise.

And indeed, her steps falter a bit as she takes in Zuko’s execution of the form with wide eyes. Izumi had been technically very good, but both her father and aunt have the real world experience bending fire that she lacks to truly bring out her best.

At the end of the form, the siblings finish in unison and center their breath. Zuko turns to Azula and bows, then gives Izumi a slight bow, as well. Azula does not bow.

“I don’t understand,” Izumi says as her father comes back to her side and accepts a water bottle from his husband. “I did everything you did, but even I can tell that it wasn’t the same.”

“Give it time,” Zuko tells her with a grin. “But also, I think you may find that the time is approaching quickly. Look.” He nods into the distance as he takes another pull of water, and Izumi turns to see a little dust cloud making its way toward them.

“The Sun Warriors!” she exclaims. “Wait— Dad!” She turns back to him, looking frightened. “Do you… you don’t think they’re going to make me meet the masters, do you?”

Zuko laughs. “I hope they give you the chance, and that you accept, Izumi,” he says, smiling fondly at his daughter. She swallows. “Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to be scared of.”

The Sun Warriors approach. Zuko bows to their leader, who returns the gesture before reaching out and clasping hands with him.

“Fire Lord,” he says warmly. “It is good to see you again.”

“Twice every decade or so, hm?” Zuko says, smiling. “This is my family. My husband, Sokka.” Sokka waves. “My daughter, Izumi.” Izumi bows. “My sister, Azula.”

This garners more of a reaction among the gathered Sun Warriors. Although their tribe is largely separate and autonomous from Zuko’s nation, news of the outside world does occasionally reach them. Azula is a known entity among the group, and there is a definite shift in the friendly mood now that she has been identified.

“You, your husband, and your daughter are welcome,” the leader of the Sun Warriors says, before frowning at Azula. “But why have you brought her here?”

“She wants to meet dragons,” Zuko explains. “I’m inclined to let her.”

He sees the chief’s right-hand man, who had once hoped that the dragons would eat Aang and Zuko, smirk.

Slowly, the chief nods. “And you, Izumi of the Fire Nation? Would you also meet the masters?”

Izumi straightens her back before bowing, hands positioned respectfully in front of her. “If you so permit, guardian,” she says.

“Then let us not waste time. Come along,” he says, beckoning them forward. Zuko half remembers the path they’re walking now as the one that leads to the first fire. He watches as both Izumi and Azula are handed a flame to keep alive, then he and Sokka join the procession of Sun Warriors to the top of the mountain. Without a flame to encumber them, and with expert guides, they make it to the top much faster than Izumi and Azula.

At the top of the mountain, the chanters and drum beaters take up position, then the firebenders pass the first flame around until the ceremonial circles are complete. Zuko presses a kiss to Izumi’s forehead and walks her to the base of the stairs.

“I’m proud of you,” he tells her, a little misty eyed. “Be strong, and patient.” The chief lays a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back. Zuko holds Izumi’s gaze for a moment longer, then nods to her. She nods back, and begins the ascent. Azula is already halfway to the top.

Izumi races to catch up to Azula, then slows her pace so they arrive at the top together. She is out of breath, excited, and terrified. Azula looks calm, smug even. As though she is finally getting what is owed to her.

“What now?” Azula demands. Izumi shrugs, then looks down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Present your flames to the masters!” the chief bellows. 

Izumi and Azula exchange a look, then face opposite directions and raise their flames toward the caverns in front of them. Izumi falls into a respectful bow, one foot forward and resting on its heel to accommodate the need for a straighter back to continue holding the flame.

She hears the blast of horns from below, and a moment later the earth around her trembles and she almost flinches, almost screams and runs for the stairs, back to the safety of her father below. Instead, she swallows the shout before it can pass her lips and steels herself like she did in the face of her grandfather interrogating her. A calm washes over her. She can do this. She will make her father… _and_ her mother proud. It is Raya’s calm, she thinks, that she is borrowing for this trial.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispers, so quietly it goes unheard even by Azula in the midst of the rumbling earth and whooshing air around them.

And then the dragons are out of the caves. Izumi stands straight, hands falling to her side and flame forgotten as she stares in open wonder at the size and majesty of the beasts now flying in ouroboros formation around the platform.

After a moment of staring at them, dazed, she thinks of the story her father told her about his visit. “The form!” she yells to Azula. Azula is staring, transfixed, at the dragons. She does not seem to hear Izumi.

Izumi shakes her aunt’s shoulders. Finally Azula snaps out of her trance, eyes wide, and Izumi repeats her idea. Azula nods, still stricken, and they begin the motions of the Dancing Dragons.

Izumi’s heart swells as she takes her second stance and sees the red dragon mirroring her motion. Each of the form’s strong positions is reflected in the dragon’s flight, and it is beautiful and wonderful and awe-inspiring.

When her fists bump Azula’s with the final position of the form, she sees the dragons take their own positions, one facing each of the women standing before them.

Somewhere far below them, she hears the chief of the Sun Warriors say something, but she is too engrossed to make out what. The red dragon seems to be staring into her soul, examining her from the inside out. She finds herself thinking about her worst fears and the most horrible things she has done, the way she lashed out at her dad after her mom died, the way she had once screamed at Sokka that she wished he had died instead of Raya. Her eyes fill with tears as the memories of her mother are laid bare in this examination, everything she ever loved about Raya brought to the surface, and she feels the deep, incredible loss all over again as it is ripped away. 

She thinks about her joys and triumphs, too. Her successes at firebending and tutoring. Her father’s pride as she shows him what she is learning, how she is becoming capable as a leader. Her strength of will and the remorse that brought her back to Sokka to apologize and beg forgiveness for having said such a horrible thing to him.

And in the same instant, she is seeing her father’s best and worst moments, and her mother’s. She sees the deeds of Ozai, and Ursa, and their parents. Her maternal grandparents, and great-grandparents. Her ancestry, laid out behind her.

The dragons open their mouths and flame encases both of them. Izumi does not flinch. She lets the tears that have filled her eyes flow now, as she stares into the colors and light of the fire surrounding her, her back now pressed up against her aunt’s. She sees the first fire, sees the dragons and humans firebending together, sees the way fire helped bring civilization to the world. She sees its destructive force in wild forest fires, but also the way the old dead wood is cleared away for growth to begin anew. She sees how the hearth became the center of the home for so many people in the world, a place to cook food and boil water, offering a way for life to thrive even in the dead of winter.

“I see,” she whispers. “I understand.”

Azula screams.

The fire disappears, and the dragons complete a final loop before disappearing back into their caves. 

Izumi turns to find her aunt collapsed onto the ground, clawing at her hair and eyes. “Take it back,” Azula shouts, voice hysterical. “Take it back!”

“Azula!” Izumi cries, crouching next to her and trying to grasp her hands so she won’t hurt herself. 

Frantic and disoriented, Azula shoves Izumi off of her and throws her hand out to burn her. But instead of the raging, perfect blue flame she had bent just hours ago, there is a sad puff of orange flame that doesn’t even reach Izumi’s body.

“No! It’s all wrong!” Azula screams. “It’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” Izumi begs, trying to understand. “Please, Azula, calm down. Let me help you!”

“I don’t need your help,” Azula tries to sneer but it sounds frantic. She staggers to her feet and makes her way at a quick, unsteady pace down the steps. Izumi follows, looking ahead to see if Zuko is waiting for them at the bottom. He is, his face worried and excited. He catches her eye as they get closer and gives her a questioning look, but she just shakes her head. She doesn’t know what’s happening.

At the base of the stairs, Zuko reaches out and catches Azula as she launches herself from the last stair toward the Sun Warrior Chief. She thrashes against his arms, shouting at the chief to take it all back, to bring the masters back so she can set things right. She lashes out a few times with the intention to firebend, but once again produces only weak flames and sparks, nothing like the blue fire she was effortlessly bending earlier.

“Azula!” Zuko begs, holding her tighter. “Azula, hold still for a minute! Please, stop!”

“No!” she shrieks, holding onto his arms and kicking out at the chief, who is holding out a hand to stop the warriors who have rushed to his aid. “Make him pay, Zuko! Make them pay for what they did!”

“What did they do?” Zuko asks, completely bewildered. “What did the masters show you?”

“It was all wrong,” she hisses, finally resigning herself to holding still. He relaxes his grip just enough that he is no longer squeezing her or supporting her weight, but otherwise keeps her restrained. “Their visions— lies! They’re— they’re wrong! About fire! About all of it!”

Zuko looks to Izumi, cocks his head. “What did you see?” he asks.

Izumi can’t help but smile a little at the memory, even with the unsettling scene in front of her. “Fire… is life,” she responds, trying to capture the way her soul had first been ripped bare and pieced back together, then imbued with the truth of her element. “It’s… like our breath. We control it not because it’s dangerous— or, not _only_ that— but because that’s how we keep our purpose, our self.”

Zuko nods. This is what he remembers, too.

Azula grips her hair tightly, going limp in her brother’s arms as she pulls her skin taut on her scalp. He lowers himself to his knees, to let her sink down while also maintaining his hold in case she suddenly attempts something violent. “It’s wrong,” she whispers, eyes wide and frantic. “Everything is wrong.”

Zuko looks up at Sokka helplessly. Something awful happened with his sister and he feels responsible. Despite his jokes that maybe the masters would just eat her, he doesn’t want Azula _more_ broken than before. Some small part of him had distantly, privately— perhaps even with a mite of shame, for still thinking it possible after all these years— hoped that she would find a new purpose and healing after meeting the dragons.

Sokka turns to the Sun Warrior chief. “Has this happened before?”

The man frowns. “Not in my memory,” he says, thoughtful. “Few firebenders have been allowed to attempt the trials, and fewer still rise to the occasion when given the first fire. But there are legends of the masters deeming some who approach them unworthy.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, crossing his arms. “And I thought you said those unworthy people make a tasty snack for your masters, not that they torture them psychologically.”

The chief’s second-in-command looks a little guilty as the chief replies, “Legends have been told of many firebenders attempting the trials and returning changed people, for better or worse, but dragons do not eat people. What has happened to Azula…” he shakes his head. “I cannot say. What I do know is: though the masters can be harsh, they are not cruel. Like fire itself, they blaze with life and ferocity, but not with ill-intent.”

Sokka sighs. “Well, we know one person who’s good at reading people’s energy and finding out what’s going on with their bending.” Izumi stops her form and perks up with anticipation.

“Aang,” Zuko confirms, nodding as he continues to hold Azula, who is now silent and still. He was thinking the same thing.

“No,” Azula says weakly. “Please.”

Suddenly struck with compassion and what vestiges of love remain for his sister, Zuko shifts his hold on her to an embrace, holding her close. “Aang will help us, Azula. He’ll help set things right.”

She kneels stiffly on the ground and endures the hug.

* * *

They’re already two hours of flying time away from the Sun Warriors ruins when Zuko nearly trips on something small and red that moves quickly out of his way toward the back of the ship. He frowns and follows, trying to see what it is.

He bends down to look under a bolted-down panel of gauges in the back and nearly falls over in surprise. A small red dragon, barely bigger than a domestic cat-raccoon, blinks back at him from where it is hiding.

“Hello,” he greets the stowaway, trying to stay calm as his mind races thinking about how and when this baby dragon found its way on board his ship. Also— _baby dragon?!_ “Who might you be?”

* * *

## Part 2

Aang waits for them at the airfield where incoming diplomatic vessels land so their occupants can be safely and quietly escorted to their respective embassies, chambers, and homes. Katara is with him, as are their children, but not Toph. She was away on urgent business with her family’s estate in Ba Sing Se, her father having recently fallen ill. Izumi leans out of the window of the descending airship and waves enthusiastically at Kya, who waves back with a grin.

During their flight to Republic City, Zuko attempted to figure out what to do about the baby dragon. He managed to coax the little fellow out of his (at least, Zuko _thinks_ it’s a boy?) hiding spot. Azula barely reacted, focused as she has been on her newfound bending problem, but Izumi and Sokka were speechless.

Trial and error resulted in the following known facts about the baby dragon:  
1\. Probably a boy  
2\. Only likes Zuko  
3\. SHARP CLAWS, WILL CLIMB ZUKO’S LEG  
4\. Frequent napper. Prefers Zuko’s lap

Izumi is a bit devastated that the baby dragon seems to only like Zuko, because he’s also just so cute and she has been begging Zuko to let her adopt a pet for ages.

“He’s not a pet,” Zuko sputters as the little dragon sits on top of his head and gives his daughter the side-eye. “He’s a dragon.”

Now that they’ve landed, Zuko takes the sleeping form of the baby dragon from his lap and gently lays him into a messenger-style bag that Sokka had rummaged from one of the storage compartments, and wears it over his shoulder. It’s better than leaving the little creature alone on the airship.

“Uncle Aang!” Izumi shouts, racing down the steps to throw her arms around her favorite uncle. 

“Hi, Izumi,” Aang greets her, returning the hug enthusiastically. “Did you meet the firebending masters?”

“I did! Watch this!” She steps back and performs a few moves from the middle part of one of her more advanced firebending forms, and she once again seems to move more fluidly within the form than she had ever before. 

Aang and Katara clap for her before she hurries to her aunt to give her a hug, too. “Hi, Aunt Katara!”

“Hi, baby,” Katara greets her, kissing her cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.”

Sokka has followed his step-daughter out of the ship and greets his sister and brother-in-law as Izumi hurries over to her cousins, giving Kya a hug and teasingly running a hand over Tenzin’s bald head. 

“Really, Sokka? Azula?” Katara demands as soon as she is done hugging her brother. “What were you thinking?!”

Sokka sighs and looks over to where Zuko is trying to coax a reluctant Azula down the ship’s steps. “It’s a long story, Katara,” he says wearily. “But… we both once hated Zuko for what he did to us and our tribe. Is it so hard to think we could forgive Azula, too?”

Katara scoffs. “Zuko actually worked hard to prove his loyalties. And even when he was evil, he was motivated by a twisted need for love. Azula… she just wanted power.”

“She’s your age, you know. Not even fifteen when Sozin’s comet happened,” Sokka says quietly, earning a surprised look from his sister.

“You’re really defending her? She’s a war criminal,” Katara hisses. “In case you’ve forgotten, she subjugated the entire Earth Kingdom _and_ enabled Ozai’s insane Phoenix King plot.”

Aang sighs, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He’s right, Katara. We may not be able to understand her, but we can at least acknowledge that she deserves to be treated humanely despite everything. She is unwell, and deserves our compassion.”

Katara scowls. “I suppose,” she concedes, unconvincingly.

Zuko has finally managed to get Azula to walk down the stairs. She now stands a few feet away, arms crossed and face cast aside and down. From what little they can see her expression, she looks confused and sullen and… scared.

Katara softens. She sighs. “I suppose,” she repeats, more convincingly.

Zuko approaches the group and pulls Katara into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he tells her, not having been privy to the earlier conversation. “I don’t know what to do, but I always know I can count on you.”

He lets go of Katara and accepts the hug waiting for him from Aang. He does not see the somewhat accusatory look Sokka gives his sister behind his back, nor the guilty grimace she gives him in return.

The children run over to greet Sokka and Zuko, and while this happens, Aang steps away from the cluster of his family and walks slowly toward Azula. She sees him coming and stands up a little straighter, scowling. He sees the reaction of a caged tiger-lynx, sinking into a corner and growling.

“Azula,” he greets her.

“Hello, Aang,” she says warily. “For the record I don’t want to be here.”

He shrugs. “That makes two of us, then. Did you give Zuko the coordinates for the hostages yet?”

She shakes her head. “He forgot,”she sneers. “Too busy with the little dragon pup.”

“The what?” Aang asks, looking back at Zuko in surprise. He notices the messenger back now, the way Zuko’s hand hovers protectively over it and how Sokka keeps looking at it worriedly.

Azula tosses her long hair. “I’m sure you’ll find out all about it soon enough.”

Returning his attention to Azula, Aang spreads his hands in supplication. “You have to understand, Azula. We need those coordinates right away. The people on that boat are going to be running out of water any minute, if what you said about their rations is true.”

She gives him a knowing smile. “I suppose this is when you tell me you won’t help me until I give up the coordinates.”

“No,” Aang says simply. “I’ll help you regardless. But I have a hunch about what’s happening with you, and I think telling us the coordinates regardless of who has leverage over whom would be a good way to help yourself, too.”

She stares at him, wide-eyed and suddenly feeling off-footed. Hostage negotiations she can handle. Aang’s appeal feels like someone has yanked a rug out from under her only to reveal it was the only thing keeping her from falling into a bottomless chasm.

“It’s okay, Azula,” he says quietly. Nobody else is around. “You can shrug his grip off. You’ll be okay.” Her eyes dilate and her breath quickens— she’s panicking. Aang steps forward, hands held up gently in a gesture of peace. “Look at Zuko. Look at Izumi. Stronger than ever. Happier than ever. You can have that, too. Let us help you.”

She stands perfectly still for a moment, trying to control her breathing, trying to keep herself regimented, before she sags forward and drops to her knees, head in hands, body shaking with sobs.

Zuko is there in an instant, kneeling next to his sister and wrapping his arms around her shoulders protectively. He looks up at Aang, scowling. “What did you do to her?” he demands.

Katara, Sokka, and the children arrive a second later, looking between Zuko, Azula, and Aang with surprised looks. 

“We just talked,” Aang reassures Zuko, continuing to hold his hands up in peace. 

“The hostages,” Azula murmurs as she gets her sobs under control. Zuko sits back and gives her a shocked look. In the midst of everything else, he’d forgotten about the hostages. “Give me a map. I’ll show you where they are.”

Zuko throws Aang another look, this one less accusatory but more baffled as he tries to figure out what Aang could have possibly said, then nods at Izumi, who sprints to the ship. She returns holding some naval charts and the weather reports that they’ve been gathering from radio transmissions as they’ve tracked the efforts of the search and rescue mission. Azula finds the map she needs, then consults the weather reports, and circles an area on the map northwest of her island. 

“This is where you’ll find the ship,” she tells Zuko as she shoves the papers back at him. 

He nods and gathers up the charts and reports, then turns to the group. “I’m going to call this in to the fleet,” he says. “Then we should go somewhere and talk.”

Aang nods and rests a hand on his friend’s arm as he rises from where he’s been kneeling next to Azula. “You know, we all want what’s best for Azula, too, Zuko.”

Zuko nods once, then jogs back to the airship to make the radio call.

* * *

They reconvene at Sokka’s home in Republic City. Zuko and Izumi spend time here frequently enough, when visiting Sokka while the Council is in session. Aang and Katara also have living space on Airbender Island, but for now they cramp all five adults and four teenagers into Sokka’s apartment near the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center.

“Why don’t we send the kids to get dinner,” Katara suggests, as Kya and Tenzin combine their bending power to spray misty air at Bumi, to Izumi’s delight. 

Aang, Sokka, and Zuko all give sighs of relief in unison at the suggestion. They send the four teens out with strict instructions: no bending (Bumi gives a triumphant grin), don’t go far, don’t start trouble, don’t let people know who you are. Izumi is giddy with the opportunity; she _never_ gets to go _anywhere_ without Zuko, Sokka, tutors, guards, sages, and/or other attendants. She changes into one of her city dresses that she keeps at Sokka’s place and lets her hair drape around her shoulders loose under a hat so she’ll look more like a local.

“Be safe!” Sokka yells after them as the group heads out. Tenzin, the youngest at just twelve years old, gives a hearty wave and kicks his heel up, airbending the door shut. Sokka smacks his face in chagrin. “That’s two rules broken right off the bat,” he sighs.

“They’ll be fine,” Katara says with a chuckle. “Bumi will keep an eye on them.”

Aang cringes. “That makes me more worried,” he admits to his wife. She rolls her eyes and swats at his shoulder, then turns with her hands on her hips to assess Azula, who is slumped in a chair over a bowl of broth that Sokka had fetched for her while the kids were getting ready to leave.

“Now, what are we doing about this situation?” she asks.

Zuko is about to open his mouth to reply when a rustling at his hip stops him short. Seconds later, the flap of the messenger bag shimmies partially open and a little red dragon head pops out.

“Dragon pup,” Aang recalls with open wonder on his face. “This is amazing, Zuko!”

Katara squats down to get eye level with the little dragon, smiling with delight. “Oh my goodness,” she coos. “Who is this? Zuko— is this a baby dragon? I didn’t know there were enough left in the world to reproduce still!”

“Me neither,” Zuko says, flipping the bag fully open and running his finger down the dragon’s neck. “This little one stowed away on our ship while we visited the Sun Warriors. I think the best I can do is take him back after we have Azula feeling better.”

Aang smiles as he watches the dragon sniff Katara’s offered finger, then climb up Zuko’s arm and onto his shoulder instead of accepting her affection. “I dunno, Zuko,” he says. “I think you and this little one might have more journeys to take together yet. Have you named him?”

“Named him? No way, that implies I’m keeping him!” Zuko protests. “I can’t have a dragon as a pet! They’re not pets. They’re the original firebenders, not pups to be named on a whim.”

“Don’t the original firebenders have names?” Sokka asks wryly, gesturing wildly with his arms to indicate the full grown dragons they'd met earlier that day.

“Ran and Shaw,” Aang answers. “They did not speak to us in our language. I suppose it’s possible they have a naming system of their own, but I don’t know how Ran and Shaw would have gotten their names as we call them without a human or spirit choosing them.”

“Look, can we just focus on the task at hand?” Zuko interrupts, feeling miffed. “I know the dragons are neat and all, but we’ve got a bigger problem to solve first.”

As one, the four of them turn and look at Azula, who has finished her broth and, like a flower after rain, has perked up a bit and sits straight, arms crossed, in her chair.

“Nice of you to remember me,” she drawls.

“Yes, how terrible to not be the center of attention for a whole five minutes,” Katara snaps. Aang gives her a disapproving look as they all settle on the couches and chairs around the coffee table.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Aang licks his lips and begins. “Azula, I think I know what’s happening, but the best way for me to know for sure is to go into the avatar state and connect our energies.”

“Isn’t that how you took Father’s firebending away?” she demands suspiciously.

“It is,” Aang confirms. “But that’s not what I intend to do here. I don’t need to dominate your spirit or force my will onto yours through energy bending. I just need to be able to read your energy paths and examine your chakras.”

“Can you even do that with your energy bending? How do I know this isn’t just a trick to take away my firebending?” she asks, still suspicious.

Aang looks to Katara, cocks his head to the side. “Darling, do you mind if I do the same thing to you first? To show Azula that I can energy bend without damaging someone or their connection to their element?”

Katara opens her mouth to protest, but shuts it again at the look on Aang’s face. She looks at Azula, then at Zuko, and the fight leaves her. “Alright,” she agrees, and the smile on her husband’s face is radiant. She bends a bit of water up and out of a glass on the table, then drops it back in. “Just to show there’s no tricks going on,” she says.

They watch in fascinated silence as Aang kneels in front of Katara and places one hand on her forehead and one on her chest. His tattoos and eyes shine with the pure white light of the avatar state, and after a moment, Katara’s eyes and mouth fill with a brilliant cerulean light. Unlike in the fight against Ozai, there is no attempt for one soul to dominate or subjugate the other. Instead they sit like this for a moment, frozen in space, until Aang blinks his eyes and sits back on his heels.

Katara blinks a few times, and then tears flood into her eyes. Aang reaches for her and she lets him pull her into his arms. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Katara replies, burying her face in his robes. “I can’t let it go. I’ve tried.”

“You will,” he assures her. “You have too much compassion to let this block your heart forever.”

Azula clears her throat. “This is a very… moving… display of marital sentiment, I’m sure,” she drones. “But I can’t say I’m interested in being reduced to a sobbing mess for you to reassure and comfort, Avatar. It isn’t really the kind of healing I’m looking for.”

Katara wipes at her eyes and stands up, glaring at Azula before she snaps her fingers and the water from the glass on the table zooms into the air. Katara gestures and the water swings around and dumps itself in Azula’s lap.

“So you know it was me and not him,” she says, jerking her head in Aang’s direction. “Since he’s too nice to dump water on anyone.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and looks at Zuko. “I’m sorry I can’t forgive your sister, Zuko. You mean the world to me, but I still wake up panicked from dreams of lightning striking my chest and killing me, or of not being able to heal you after it hits you. I _want_ to let it go, but I can’t. Not yet. So I’m going to take a walk.”

Zuko nods his understanding, shuddering at his own memory of that fight. Azula’s lightning blast had been aimed to kill a waterbender, lethal in both intent and execution; only his uncle’s unique firebending technique had kept the blow from killing him instead when he had intercepted it, even if he hadn’t had time to properly redirect the lightning back out of his body. 

“Want company?” Sokka offers. His sister considers for a minute, then shrugs and nods. Sokka gets to his feet and bends down to give Zuko a little kiss. “See you in a bit,” he murmurs.

“Be careful,” Zuko says, trailing his hand down Sokka’s arm, wrist, and hand as he leaves.

Now that the apartment is empty except for the three of them, Aang turns to Azula and bends the water Katara had thrown at her back into its glass, drying her off, before he says, “It’s not going to be pleasant, I admit. But this should diagnose the problem and help us figure out how to get you firebending again.”

Azula turns to Zuko, who is flabbergasted by the look on her face. She looks… uncertain. Like she needs advice and direction, and she has chosen him to give it to her. She looks unmoored from reality and herself and somehow she looks like she _trusts_ him to help ground her.

He feels the little dragon curl up next to his ear and hum. It sounds like encouragement.

For the first time ever, Zuko and Azula reach out to each other for connection without living under the oppressive, all-encompassing rule of their father. Growing up, neither had a real opportunity to be a good sibling, not with Ozai’s toxicity poisoning their every thought and deed. Zuko looks at Azula, actually being vulnerable, and thinks, _I’m going to do it right this time._

He says, “You can trust Aang, Azula. I’ll be here the whole time. It might not be fun, but nothing bad will happen to you. I promise.”

Aang beams at Zuko, then raises his eyebrows at Azula. “What do you think?”

She swallows, then nods. Aang slowly approaches her chair and kneels in front of her. Zuko stands next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder, bracing her. The little dragon crawls down Zuko’s arm and lays so his body is cradled there between the siblings, his head on the hand that sits on Azula’s shoulder.

Zuko caves. The dragon is getting a name.

“Ready?” Aang asks.

“Ready,” Azula says.

Aang puts his hands against her chest and forehead, and Zuko watches with some trepidation as first Aang’s eyes and tattoos glow, then Azula’s eyes and mouth. A moment passes, then another, and another, before Aang’s hands lift from their bending position and his avatar light fades. Azula’s orange light also extinguishes.

Aang sits back to give Azula room. She crumples in the chair, curled up on herself, shaking.

“Are you okay, Azula?” Zuko asks, crouching in the space that Aang has just vacated, hands brushing his sister’s hair out of her face. She tucks her face away from him and into the chair, as if she is ashamed. 

“I think she needs some rest,” Aang says gently. “She’ll be okay. Come on, Zuko. Let’s talk in the dining room.”

Zuko stands and watches the form of his trembling sister helplessly for another moment before letting Aang move him away. They detour to the kitchen where Zuko makes some tea, and he ducks back into the living room to leave a steaming cup for Azula before following Aang to the dining room.

They sit at the table in silence for a minute, sipping the tea Zuko has brewed, before Aang sets his cup down and taps a long, graceful finger on the ceramic. “Azula… she’s not sick, or broken, or anything,” Aang begins. Zuko sags in relief. “You remember how you lost your firebending after you stood up to your father and came to find us at the Western Air Temple?”

“Yes,” Zuko says. “But meeting the masters fixed that for me. Why did the opposite happen to Azula?”

Aang raises an eyebrow. “Think about it, Zuko. You had lost your purpose, and your anger. The thing that connected you to your inner fire was gone, but meeting the masters helped you find a new purpose, a new connection. Your firebending disappeared because you had replaced your anger and destructive nature with a desire for fostering peace and life. _Then_ you were introduced to fire in its true nature, as an element of life and creation, and your firebending was stronger than ever. Azula has learned the true nature of fire without reforming the bridge that connects her to it.”

Zuko stares at his friend. “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying that Azula saw exactly the same vision as Izumi, and you, and me,” he confirms, nodding. “She is perfectly capable of understanding the true source of firebending here,” he says, tapping Zuko’s forehead, “but she cannot make the connection _here_.” He taps Zuko’s chest, over his heart.

(Zuko remembers tapping Izumi’s heart and head after Raya’s death, when they had talked about how her mother would live on in their love and their thoughts, and feels an old grief quake through him.)

“I think your father destroyed any chance for Azula to develop normal relationships, even with you and your mother,” Aang says quietly, looking at his teacup sadly. “I think that she was, truly, incapable of remorse or empathy. Ozai’s fire outwardly scarred your face, but it scarred Azula’s emotional capacity, burning it right out of her.”

Zuko shudders, remembering how even as a small child, Azula had been quick to hurt animals, manipulate her “friends,” and use fear to control him. 

“But remember, Zuko, fire isn’t simply an element of destruction,” Aang says more optimistically, reaching out to take his friend’s hand in his own. “Where Ozai’s influence prevented healthy growth, the dragons’ fire has now burned a new path into existence. Azula is… I think she’s feeling so confused and lost right now, because she is feeling an entire spectrum of emotions that had previously been ripped away by your father’s abuse, from the time she was very young.”

“What?” Zuko says, though he has heard everything Aang said. 

“It isn’t going to be easy,” Aang cautions. “She’s working against an entire lifetime of neglect, abuse, and trauma. And she’s going to start understanding the consequences of her war crimes, too, in a way she simply didn’t before. It’s really going to suck, Zuko. But… she has a chance, now. There’s hope that, like you, she can choose love and peace.”

Zuko thinks about Katara, and the scar on his own chest from the lightning that Azula had shot at her. He thinks of the children of Ba Sing Se who grew up without parents because of Azula’s coup. He thinks of the servants Azula had tormented, even the turtleducks she had once thrown loaves of bread at. 

“Does she deserve that chance?” he asks, heart and mind at odds with each other.

Aang shrugs. “Did you?” he counters.

Zuko thinks of the Water Tribe village he destroyed, the families he ripped apart. How he had single-mindedly tracked and ultimately kidnapped Aang. How he had betrayed Katara and his uncle in Ba Sing Se, then hired an assassin to kill the people who would become his friends and family. 

But… 

“Yeah,” he says, frowning a bit defiantly. “I did. I made terrible mistakes and did awful things, I admit. But I was a kid with a lot of trauma and I was trying so desperately to be loved and accepted by a man who couldn’t….” he trails off.

Aang gives him a sad smile. “I know it seems different, because Azula never showed remorse. But Zuko, your remorse, your _goodness_ wasn’t a coincidence. You had a few good years with your parents before everything went wrong, and then you had Ursa, and Iroh. Azula had…”

“Ozai,” Zuko supplies. And it all clicks together for him. Azula’s lack of empathy was no more her fault than Zuko’s anger was his own. It all led back to Ozai. She may still be accountable for her actions, but she was a victim of their father just like he was.

“She’s going to need so much help,” Aang tells him intently. “She’s going to need so much love.”

* * *

Izumi and Azula are both fast asleep under blankets near the back of the airship as Sokka pilots them back toward the Fire Nation palace. Zuko powers the furnace, tired himself but glad his daughter and sister are resting after their long, trying day. After watching the heat gauge climb back to a level that meant they’ll have power for a good while now, Zuko makes his way to the front of the ship where he collapses into a chair next to his husband.

The little dragon scampers up his leg and into his lap, completing a few nesting circles before settling comfortably.

Sokka smiles at the little creature, a bit bewildered by it still. “What are we going to do with him?” he asks.

“I’m calling him Druk,” Zuko says. “I think we’re going to raise him. I’ll take him back to the Sun Warriors and make sure Ran and Shaw are okay with it, but… I dunno, I can’t shake the feeling that Aang is right. I think this little one and I are destined for many journeys together.”

Sokka grins. “You were already the coolest Fire Lord ever,” he says, “and now you have a dragon? I’m glad I snatched you up _before_ the dragon, or I wouldn’t have stood a chance against the bachelors and bachelorettes falling over themselves for you.”

“Please,” Zuko scoffs. “I would have at least _considered_ you still.” He smiles at Sokka’s eye roll, then leans over to rest his head on his husband’s shoulder. “I’d pick you in every lifetime,” he whispers. 

Sokka takes his hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d wait my whole lifetime for you to pick me,” he replies, then cuts his eyes to his husband and wags his eyebrows with a little smile. “Though I’m glad it didn’t take that long.”

Zuko huffs a laugh, turns his face into Sokka’s shoulder a little and then scooches closer so he can nuzzle his neck with his nose. “Me, too. Spirits, what a day.”

“No kidding,” Sokka sighs. “Are you holding up okay?”

Careful not to bump Sokka’s head with his own, Zuko sits up a little and turns to look toward the back of the ship at the slumbering princesses. “Despite all the scares, Izumi seems really happy,” he says, “and Azula… well, we’ll have to see how she’s faring tomorrow. At least she’s getting rest.”

Sokka kisses his hand again. “Okay, but I asked how _you’re_ doing.”

Zuko blinks. “Ah,” he says. He rests his head back on Sokka’s shoulder. “I… I feel drained, and a little scared. It’s hard to trust Azula, even after all of this. But I want to. I want her to have a chance.”

“Me, too,” Sokka says. “I think we’re doing the right thing, bringing her home.”

Zuko thinks of the last time his sister had been at the palace, when she had been fourteen and they had fought in the empty city. When Katara had captured her and she had writhed on the ground in frustrated agony, shooting flames from her nose and mouth. 

“I hope so,” he says. “I hope it doesn’t make her feel worse, or return her to thinking like she did as a kid.”

“Did it do that to you?” Sokka asks.

“A little,” Zuko admits. In his first weeks back in the palace after being crowned Fire Lord, he had hated being “home” again. It had taken months, years even, to adjust to thinking of the palace as safe and comfortable. A lot of the eventual feeling of safety had come from systematically dismantling every one of his father’s absurd symbols of power. No more fire throne. No more daises, palanquins, banner-bearers, or suits of armor worn like royal robes. The old royal chambers had been torn down and rebuilt, with expanded gardens that merged with his mother’s old garden. No more of his father’s personal chambers to haunt Zuko’s timid steps.

“Well,” Sokka says, pulling Zuko back to the present. “Azula has always been a strong person. She’ll be okay. And if the palace is too hard for her, we can figure something else out.”

They fly along in silence for a little while, then Zuko says sleepily, “Sokka?”

“Mhm?”

“Love you.”

* * *

In the first year that Azula lives in the palace, Zuko drowns in her needs. 

He sleeps less than ever, splitting his time between Izumi, Sokka, Azula, Druk, and ruling the Fire Nation.

Izumi turns fifteen. Druk grows to the size of a small cat-deer. Sokka is called away to Republic City as a new crime lord begins to cause trouble in its districts. 

Azula terrorizes the staff by day, and is plagued by night terrors in her sleep. She runs away three times. She has several panic attacks each month. She refuses medical treatment. Near the end of the first year since their trip to the Sun Warriors, she refuses to eat or let Zuko visit her. He forces her to get medical help against her will, and it completely ruins the trust they’re working on building.

But what he never expected is that it would be Katara who helped Azula the most when he himself was helpless. Katara, who had told him on Azula’s darkest day that she might never be able to forgive her. She hears about Azula’s meltdown and arrives by ship with Bumi and Kya in tow.

For a month after Zuko forces Azula to receive medical attention, Katara slowly and patiently works her way into Azula’s inner circle of healers. Day by day, she convinces Azula a little more that she can be trusted. Little by little, she lets go of her own grudge and permits herself, finally, to see a woman in desperate need of help.

Meanwhile, Izumi sits Zuko down at the breakfast table and clears her throat. “Dad,” she says, and he can tell she has rehearsed whatever this speech is going to be, “you need to take a break. I’m going to start taking half of your appointments each day personally, and I’ll sit in on the other half to keep learning from you. But Aunt Azula needs you to be ready when she’s feeling better, and you’re going to kill yourself at this rate, so I’m not asking. I’m telling you. It’s time to let me step up.”

Zuko says nothing, but he stands up and takes his daughter by the hand and walks her over to the shrine for her mother that still stands in their apartment. It has been a long time since they’ve sat together in front of it and talked to Raya, but now Zuko kneels and lights the incense just like they had when Izumi was younger.

Izumi kneels next to him. Zuko weeps. She wraps her arms around him and tells him it’ll be okay.

Zuko wipes his eyes and looks at the picture of Raya, noticing not for the first time how much Izumi is growing up to look like her mother. “Raya,” he whispers. “Our daughter spoke to me today and it was you I heard. How have you taught her from beyond the grave to be so strong?”

Izumi sniffles. 

With Izumi and Katara helping, Zuko’s workload diminishes to almost nothing more than what he’d been doing before first taking Azula to see Ozai. He even makes it back to the Sun Warrior ruins with Druk, finally consulting with Ran and Shaw about the young dragon. They seem to approve of the name and how Druk is growing, and give their blessing for the young dragon to stay with Zuko.

Sokka returns from Republic City with horror stories of a man who could blood bend without the full moon. 

Azula finally sends for Zuko. He and Izumi are in the middle of a meeting with his chief engineers and civic planners about developing new airfields and roads for the Fire Nation when the message comes. There’s a pause in the meeting as Zuko reads the note, then shows it to Izumi. She nods. He nods. He stands and the assembled group of bureaucrats and engineers scramble to their feet to bow.

“I’m leaving the rest of this matter in Princess Izumi’s hands,” Zuko tells them, bowing as well. 

“As you wish, my lord,” the Minister of Infrastructure replies.

Zuko exits the room and sets off jogging for Azula’s rooms, Druk bounding along at his heels. When he arrives, Katara is waiting for him outside. She smiles and beckons him over.

“Thanks for having been so patient,” she tells him. She has been keeping him apprised of Azula’s recovery, so he knows that his sister is doing fairly well these days, but it has still been agony waiting to know if she would open her door to him again. “She’s been agonizing over how to invite you back.” Katara’s face twists a bit as she adopts a more haughty look, and she does her best Azula impression: “If I just show up at breakfast, he’ll get all mushy about it. But if I make him come to me, he’ll act all high and mighty!” She rolls her eyes and abandons the impression. “I told her it would be fine either way, but it still took a few days for her to gather the confidence to send for you.”

“Thank you, Katara,” Zuko says, feeling a little nervous before he looks at the door uncertainly. “Can I just go in?”

Katara rolls her eyes a bit. “Of course,” she says, turning her attention to Druk. Druk has gotten better about socializing with people who aren’t Zuko, and has warmed up to Katara considerably since he discovered that she can adapt her waterbending-healing power to also give him warm water massages. He patters over to her and preens as she scratches his chin.

Zuko takes a deep breath, knocks twice, and opens the door. “Azula?” he calls, to announce his presence.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” his sister’s voice returns to him, and it has a bit of a sneer to it. Zuko feels an immediate relief of his anxiety. He had almost felt like he’d be starting over with a stranger after this month-long separation, but this is still Azula. “Don’t stand there helplessly, come in.”

Zuko lets himself in fully, then glances at Druk to see if he wants to follow or if he’ll stay outside. Druk, who is very smart but very young, ruffles his wings in a stance that communicates to Zuko that he wants to play. Assuming Bumi and Kya will be along shortly to accommodate the dragon’s wish, Zuko leaves him with Katara and shuts the door.

Zuko comes into the living room, but does not see Azula. He sniffs the air. Is that… tea?

He turns toward the kitchen and sees Azula emerge with a tray carrying two cups of steaming liquid and a teapot. He catches her looking a bit worried and timid before she sees him looking, and her expression wipes to neutral.

Azula sets the tray down on the low table in the middle of the room and gestures for him to take a teacup. “Well?” she says, voice defensive and ready for a fight. “I made tea. Have some.”

He thinks of all the times he had visited her island and brought her tea, only to find the previous visit’s leaves going stale in the cupboard and her teapot unused and neglected. He thinks of how she had always let him make her tea even though she never drank it when he wasn’t there. He thinks of a time in Ba Sing Se when his own moral conflict had left him weak and sick, and when he had felt better, he had made Uncle tea.

“Thank you,” he chokes out, sitting down and taking a teacup. He takes a sip and tries not to make a face. It’s terrible. “It’s delightful.”

She smirks at him. “Are you crying, Zuzu?” she taunts.

“No,” he lies. Then he can’t help but laugh a little, and to his surprise and delight, she laughs, too, and it isn’t cruel or mocking. It’s just a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he says, when their laughter fades. “I didn’t know what to do, and I was worried you’d starve to death, or something worse. But it still keeps me up at night, wondering what I could have done that wouldn’t have been so… harsh.”

She hides her face behind her teacup and bangs. “I… don’t know what else you could have done,” she says, her voice small. Zuko isn’t used to this Azula yet, the one that lets her guard down and shows when she is uncertain and uneasy. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zuko protests immediately.

She sets her teacup down. “Nor do I think it was your fault that you acted to save my life,” she says firmly. “Did it suck? Yes. Am I alive now because you acted? Yes. I know you tried everything you could before that. Let’s not dwell on it.”

So they don’t. They talk about Katara, and Izumi, and Druk. They talk about how nice it would be to spend a week out on Ember Island, and Zuko makes a mental note to ask someone to start work on renovating the family house there. Somehow the conversation strays to reminiscing about childhood memories, however, and the comfortable mood shifts.

“That’s not how I remember it,” Zuko says quietly after Azula laughs her way through a story about the two of them playing hide and seek.

“What do you mean?” she asks, still smiling.

“I mean, it wasn’t… it wasn’t fun, for me,” he says, looking into his long-empty cup. He feels like he should stop talking to protect her, but from what? It’s not fair to protect her at his own expense, and besides, he wants her to understand. He has to say this. “You would chase me into the garden with firebending that I couldn’t block because I wasn’t as good as you, and I would hide because I was scared.”

She blinks a few times, her face going a bit blank as she thinks back to the “games” of their youth. “But,” she protests weakly, looking confused, “but… we were having fun… we were playing….”

Zuko shakes his head, still unable to look up and meet her eyes. “I lived in fear, Azula,” he tells her. “You might have been having fun, but for me, it felt like life or death. Not just because I thought you might hurt me yourself, but because… I feared you turning Father’s wrath against me.”

She’s quiet for a long time, and Zuko keeps staring at his hands until he hears a quiet thump as her teacup drops from her hands onto the rug. He looks up finally and sees she is trembling in her chair, hands covering her face. She is not clawing at her skin or hair, but it has only been a few weeks since she had tried to hurt herself, and Zuko is at her side in an instant, mentally kicking himself for not biting his tongue.

“It’s okay, Azula,” he murmurs, brushing her hair back from her face and rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—”

“No!” she interrupts. “No. I’m— I’m glad you did. And… I’m… sorry.” The words are slow and foreign in her mouth, as if she doesn’t know how to form them properly. Zuko sits back, stunned. He doesn’t think Azula has ever sincerely apologized to him. She sobs a few times, just individual gasps, before rubbing at her face and looking up at him. “I am. I… haven’t really… had a chance to go back through all my old memories and see them again through this… this new… perspective, I guess.” She shakes her head. “But every time I do, I feel like… a monster,” she finishes in a whisper.

“Hey,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re not a monster. You’re _not_. You have a chance to do better now, just like me. You can. I know it, because I’ve done it. And there’s nothing I’ve ever done in my life that you can’t do better.”

She laughs tearily and surprises him again by reaching out and squeezing his shoulders. “Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay,” he says back, smiling as he hugs her back. He thinks, _We’re going to make it._

* * *

When Zuko is sixty-four, he steps aside and lets Izumi rule. She is twice a mother already, and her children are nearly grown, his pride and joy. He spends more time with his grandchildren. They have only ever known a life with their Aunt Azula helping them wreak havoc in the palace.

When he is seventy, he finds himself detached from his body and floating above Aang’s funeral. Sokka is tending to Katara, and Izumi can’t stay long due to pressing business back in the Fire Nation capital. It’s Azula who helps bring him back to the ground, settle into his own bones once more even as he struggles to find the willpower to even look at Aang’s still form. She helps him stand tall, helps him light the fire that reduces his best friend’s body to ashes. Druk flies overhead, blasting fire into the sky to commemorate the avatar. 

When he is seventy-eight, it is again Azula who stands tall with him while they mourn Sokka. He doesn’t know if he can do this anymore. He feels broken and empty. Azula reminds him to keep his sacred inner flame alive. It’s hard. Izumi, Druk, Azula, and his grandchildren all take turns feeding the fire inside Zuko until he can keep it burning himself once again.

When he is eight-six, Katara and Toph comfort him through Azula’s funeral. She is mourned by her niece, grand-niece, grand-nephew, Katara, Toph, and countless others. Not everyone forgave her, but Zuko is moved by the people who do turn out to mourn the former princess. But his heart is heavy with grief and loss, and he is so ready to shed the body that holds him here in this mortal world.

He can’t; not yet. He knows he and Druk have some piece of destiny yet to fulfill. Izumi begs him to live with her at the palace again, but he finds that he is more comfortable at the old beach house on Ember Island, where his grandchildren drop by to visit and vacation from time to time. The house that had once been his father’s has been torn down, and this house built in its place is filled with happy memories of Azula, Sokka, and all of his family and friends. Toph spends a few years living there, too, before she disappears again, and it’s the most fun he’s had since Sokka died.

When he is ninety-one, he meets the new avatar Korra, and his heart swells with love and pride. Aang’s successor is incredible. He misses his friend so much. He misses them all. Korra tells him how she met his Uncle Iroh in the spirit world, and Zuko thinks about this story for years. 

When he is ninety-nine, he lays a hand on Druk’s neck and whispers, “I will see you in the Spirit World, old friend.”

Druk nuzzles his nose against Zuko’s shoulder gently, and Zuko smiles. He feels younger suddenly, a million aches and pains and sorrows lifting as he thinks, _Uncle is waiting._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't actually set out to write an Azula redemption story. I was just really drawn to writing about Zuko's experience visiting Azula as an adult, and then in the process of planning what that would look like, this monster happened. I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, they are basically my sole source of serotonin.


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